


international relations

by johnllauren



Series: and they were roommates (oh my god they were roommates) [5]
Category: Clone High
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bickering, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, M/M, Making Out, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, look im predictable . if youre reading this you know the drill, there is a little bit of plot. as a treat, this is so soft they're so soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:21:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29338974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnllauren/pseuds/johnllauren
Summary: “I am too pretty for this class.” Jack says decisively, crossing his arms.“I don’t see how your prettiness has anything to do with your ability to perform academically.”“What am I here for? I’m here to look pretty.”“I thought we were here to get degrees.”Jack scowls at him. “Technically.”
Relationships: JFK/Ponce "Poncey" de León (Clone High)
Series: and they were roommates (oh my god they were roommates) [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1990909
Comments: 8
Kudos: 25





	international relations

**Author's Note:**

> happy early valentines day everybody !! this fandom will not die on my watch

Jack does plenty of things that serve to remind Ponce that he is, of course, dating one of the most dramatic people alive. It’s not like Ponce minds - most of the time, it’s endearing and terribly adorable, putting Jack in the position to get anything he wants for the rest of his life as long as he asks nicely, and cementing Ponce’s position of lifelong simp. 

Still, there are things Jack is dramatic about that are, for the most part, entirely out of Ponce’s control, and the only thing Ponce can do is listen to him be dramatic. 

Ponce looks up from his computer to find Jack sitting on his bed, pouting. “What’s up, baby?” Ponce asks, mostly to humor him, shifting himself to face Jack properly, granting Jack his complete attention. 

“I am too pretty for this class.” Jack says decisively, crossing his arms. 

“What?”

Jack sighs, flopping dramatically so that he’s lying down on Ponce’s bed. “I shouldn’t have to take this class.” 

“And what does being pretty have to do with any of this?”

“Ponce, I am so pretty.” 

“I know,” Ponce says immediately, as if he could do anything but agree with him. 

Regardless of how predictable the response was, Jack’s cheeks redden and his hands move to cover his face. “Fuck _off_ ,” Jack says, his pitch getting higher from the compliment. 

It’s not like they haven’t been dating for months, now, and it’s not like Jack isn’t used to Ponce complimenting him, but Jack still gets flustered by them every time, and Ponce can’t help the way he thinks it’s the most endearing thing. He gets up from his desk and sits on the edge of his bed, looking at Jack with a fond smile. “You’re really very pretty.”

Jack rolls onto his side to face the wall. 

“Where are you going with this, anyway?”

“I am so pretty, so I should not have to take this class.” Jack says patiently. 

“Is it a cosmetology class?” Ponce asks, knowing full well it isn’t because Jack’s schedule is tacked to the wall in front of them. 

“ _International relations,_ ” Jack says. 

“I don’t see how your prettiness has anything to do with your ability to perform academically.” 

“What am I here for? I’m here to look pretty.”

“I thought we were here to get degrees.”

Jack scowls at him. “ _Technically._ ” 

Ponce grins. “Okay, okay, tell me about this class that you’re too pretty for.” 

“I hate this class. Ponce, I hate this class so much,” Jack says, “and it’s a requirement so I can’t even drop it. I don’t even _know_ anyone in it, which means they’re all boring, and it’s so much work and it’s so early in the morning and I _hate it._ ” 

Jack already hates his government major, and by extension all of its required classes, so for him to bring up one in particular must mean it inspires some kind of specific dread. And they’ve grown up around these clones their whole lives, so whatever kind of people they don’t know by now are definitely not ones Jack would like to associate with, as he was always more of the party type. 

Ponce nods sagely. “So you’re too pretty for everyone in this class.”

“ _Exactly,_ ” Jack says, pleased that Ponce is finally understanding him. 

“It’s only for one semester.” Ponce says, “I’m sure it’ll get easier. And you’ll always be consoled by how pretty you are.” 

Jack rolls his eyes but fails to hide his smile.

* * *

It doesn’t get easier. 

If anything, it gets worse. 

Jack has international relations on Tuesday and Thursday mornings, and by week four he hates the class so much that he makes himself miserable with dread on Monday and Wednesday nights. He comes to bed Mondays and Wednesdays with tense shoulders no matter how much Ponce kisses him and Ponce knows Jack can hold his own but he _worries_ about him. Jack has always had a penchant for complaining, especially when it comes to his work, but his complaints about international relations work are less whiny and more genuinely nervous, accompanied by furrowed brows and a worried smile. 

Ponce finally breaks in the middle of week five. It’s a Wednesday night, around the time they should be getting ready for bed if they want to fool around before falling asleep, and Jack’s still sitting at his desk, head in his hands while he glares at his laptop like he’s in the middle of a staring contest. 

“Baby, what are you doing?”

“My international relations homework.” Jack says, mostly a grumble. He straightens up at the desk, turns to look at Ponce, and his eyes are so tired. 

Ponce has never found himself in a situation where he wants to encourage Jack not to do homework, but weirder things have happened since they’ve started rooming together. “Come to bed, Jackie. You can do it in the morning.” 

“‘S due at midnight,” Jack says, “I gotta do it. I’ve been putting it off because I didn’t want to do it, but. I can’t afford a bad grade on this.” 

“Oh, baby,” Ponce says, standing up from his desk to get closer to Jack. “Can you hand it in in time?” 

Jack nods. “I can get it in by 11:45 if I rush.” 

“That’s not too bad.” Ponce rests a hand on his shoulder gently, rubbing circles with his thumb where he can feel the tension. 

“I don’t wanna do this,” Jack says, almost a whisper. 

“I know, baby,” Ponce’s voice is gentle, the way it is when he’s taking care of Jack. “You’ll get it done.”

Jack makes a noncommittal noise. 

“Tell you what, baby,” and Ponce’s voice is sugary sweet the way it is when he’s about to say something that’ll drive Jack absolutely insane, “how about you get the homework done like a good boy, and after I’ll suck you off until you can’t remember the first thing about international relations.”

Jack keens. 

Ponce smiles, bending to kiss his cheek. “Is that okay?”

“That’s _wonderful,_ ” Jack says, turning his head to kiss Ponce in earnest. 

The kiss is soft and sweet, Ponce pulling away with a smile and directing Jack’s attention back to his homework. Jack looks at his laptop screen and scowls, half because it’s international relations and half because it isn’t Ponce. 

“Would you be able to do your work on the bed?” Ponce asks, mostly selfish in his motivations. 

Jack is unable to deny Ponce anything, and Ponce’s bed is infinitely more comfortable than his desk, so he ends up sitting in the middle of the bed, his computer in his lap. Ponce pushes the laptop onto Jack’s left thigh as he climbs onto the bed as well, lying down and resting his head on Jack’s other thigh. Jack smiles fondly, resting his head in Ponce’s hair and playing with it. 

Ponce presses a kiss to Jack’s thigh over his sweatpants, and Jack swats him away, laughing. “You’re gonna distract me,” he says, not sounding annoyed at all. 

“When have you ever minded that?” 

“Shut up.” 

Ponce ends up looking at his phone, scrolling idly and really only half paying attention, caring much more about Jack’s hand in his hair and the steady clack-clack-clack of his computer. He cranes his neck to look at the screen, but Jack swats him away gently. “Don’t look at it. ‘S bad,” he says. 

“I’m sure it’s not _bad,_ ” Ponce tells him, but listens anyway, because he doesn’t want to be removed from his very comfortable position. 

“I’m submitting it,” Jack says, after a while, and Ponce looks up from where he’s pretending to care about Twitter. 

“Yeah?” Ponce looks at the screen again, watches as Jack submits the paper and shuts his laptop with an air of finality befitting only Jack. 

Jack grins at him, big and goofy like he knows what’s coming next, and Ponce can’t help but smile back. “Kiss me,” he says, his anxiety about school giving way to the giddy excitement he always has before sex. 

“But I’m so _comfortable_ ,” Ponce says, moving his hand to rest on the small of Jack’s back, under his shirt. 

“I’ll kick you off me.” 

“No you won’t.” 

Jack scowls. “I know.” 

Ponce laughs at him and pushes himself into a sitting position, already missing laying on Jack’s lap, but then Jack is putting the laptop at the foot of the bed and reaching forward and kissing him and all Ponce can think is _oh, this is much better._ Jack smiles against his lips, wrapping his arms around Ponce to pull him closer. Ponce is absolutely weak for it, presses as close to Jack as he can, hands moving to hold Jack’s face, and he can feel the way Jack’s cheeks heat up from it. 

It’s Jack who pulls away first to look at Ponce with those doe eyes and Ponce can’t help but smile at him. He knows what Jack wants, of course he does, and he’s all too happy to give it to him. 

“Good boy,” Ponce says, practically a whisper, because Jack is close enough to hear anything he says.

“Yeah?” Jack asks, and Ponce knows he’s just seeing how far he can push for more praise, always more praise, but Ponce doesn’t mind in the slightest. 

Ponce nods. “Doing your work so I can fuck you.” 

“Yes,” Jack says immediately, before he can think to stop himself. “For you, Ponce, did it for you.” His face is all red and he’s looking at Ponce like Ponce hangs the moon. 

“God, Jack, don’t tell me you were getting all worked up just from doing your homework,” Ponce says, already too turned on to properly chastise him. 

Jack furrows his eyebrows. “You’re the one whose face was on my thigh that whole time.” 

Ponce laughs, and Jack takes the opportunity to kiss him, sucking on his lip as Ponce regains his composure and kisses back. “It was comfortable,” Ponce manages between kisses, though neither of them really care about the argument anymore. 

“You knew it would turn me on,” Jack argues, practically speaking into Ponce’s mouth because he’s too stubborn to pull away. 

“Shut up,” Ponce says, licking into Jack’s mouth, and then Jack’s mouth is too occupied for him to respond. 

The kiss isn’t rushed, because both of them know they have all the time in the world, but it’s eager in the way that it always is when they’re making out. Jack presses himself up against Ponce like he thinks they can somehow get even closer if he keeps trying, but Ponce holds him tight nonetheless. Ponce pulls at Jack’s bottom lip with his teeth and Jack barely suppresses a whine. That only spurs Ponce on, and he kisses faster, his hand moving to play with the hem of Jack’s pajama shirt. 

Jack breaks the kiss and raises his arms expectantly. Ponce raises an eyebrow. “Really, baby?”

Jack pouts, and Ponce pulls off his shirt. 

It’s not like Ponce hasn’t seen Jack shirtless plenty of times, even before they got together, but every time he does it’s like the first. He’s pretty sure he’s staring, and even more sure Jack notices, but then he moves his hands to Jack’s waist, his thumbs tracing circles on the skin. “Ponce,” Jack says, and Ponce knows what he’s asking, so he withdraws his hands to take off his own shirt. 

“C’mere, Jack,” Ponce says, and Jack does. 

He closes the gap between them, immediately wrapping his arms around Ponce, letting his hands explore Ponce’s back. Ponce holds him in return, shifting him slightly until he can push Jack back onto the bed, moving on top of him, not breaking the kiss. Jack lets himself be pushed, holds Ponce against his chest as Ponce kisses him. 

“ _Ponce,_ ” Jack says again, against his lips. 

Ponce breaks the kiss but doesn’t tear his gaze away from Jack’s lips. “What do you want, baby?” He asks. 

“You,” Jack answers, like it’s the simplest thing in the world. 

He smiles. “Use your words.” 

Jack inhales sharply, looking up at Ponce with eyes that are so unmistakably full of love that they almost take Ponce’s breath away. “Suck me off,” he says, voice wavering like he’s unsure of himself. 

“Ask nicely.” 

Jack’s mouth falls open, and for a few seconds no sound comes out. But then the dam breaks, and he’s saying, “Ponce, Poncey, _please,_ please suck me off, I need it.” 

Ponce kisses him, either to keep him quiet or as a reward, and his hands move to play with the waistband of Jack’s sweatpants. “I will,” he says, “you know I will, Jackie-boy.” 

He breaks the kiss again, this time to kiss down Jack’s neck. Jack’s hand finds Ponce’s hair, carding through it as Ponce kisses along his collarbone, his fingers slowly lowering the sweatpants. Jack whines impatiently underneath him and Ponce smiles against his skin. It takes a certain degree of maneuvering for Ponce to get Jack’s pants and underwear off without getting off of Jack, but he does it. 

“You’re already hard,” Ponce says, more of an observation than anything else, “and I haven’t even touched you yet. Oh, baby, you’re desperate for it, aren’t you?” 

Jack nods, eager. Ponce strokes his dick once, reverently, and Jack moans, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. “Look at me, baby,” Ponce directs him, and Jack obeys. “Want you to watch while I suck your dick.” 

He listens, watches Ponce as Ponce licks up his dick before taking all of it in his mouth. Jack gasps from some combination of surprise and arousal and Ponce looks up at him, makes eye contact with him as he sucks Jack off so carefully and it’s already so _much_ that Jack thinks he’s about to burst. Ponce knows exactly what to do, exactly how to move his tongue to make Jack go crazy and Jack is still weak for it after all this time, will always be weak for it. 

“Poncey, _Poncey,_ fuck,” Jack says, tightening his grip in Ponce’s hair. 

“It’s okay, baby, I got you.” Ponce’s voice is as steady as his gaze as he takes Jack back into his mouth. 

Jack makes a fist in the sheets as he moans Ponce’s name again, never breaking eye contact. His hips buck up, practically of their own accord, and Ponce’s hands move to his hips, holding him down gently but strong enough that Jack can feel the way Ponce’s thumbs are pressing into his skin, and he gasps. 

It doesn’t take long until Jack is squirming under him, saying he’s close between moans of Ponce’s name. Ponce nods, giving Jack the permission he needs, and then Jack is coming and Ponce’s mouth is still around his dick, swallowing it all. Jack moans again, wanton, his hands pulling at Ponce’s shoulders until Ponce takes his mouth off Jack’s dick and wipes it with the back of his hand. 

“Kiss me,” Jack says, voice breathy, betraying his want. 

Ponce listens. 

Jack gets handsy immediately, moving his hands over Ponce’s torso and stomach like he’s trying to commit Ponce’s form to memory, and this time it’s Ponce moaning into Jack’s mouth as Jack’s hands find their way below Ponce’s waistband, jerking him off without bothering to pull his pants down. Ponce’s breath hitches, and Jack laughs. 

“Jack, ‘m gonna come in my pants,” Ponce says against his lips. 

He doesn’t stop, just gets faster, and Ponce momentarily forgets how to think.

“If I come in these pants I’m making you do laundry.” 

“Fine,” Jack grumbles, taking his hand off Ponce’s dick to pull his pants down. Ponce smiles, victorious, and then Jack’s hand is stroking him again and his mind goes too fuzzy to remember they were bickering. 

Jack kisses him, and it takes an almost embarrassingly short amount of time before Ponce is coming all over his hands and both their stomachs. But Jack stays, stroking him through it, kissing him all the while, until Ponce forces himself to break away so they can clean themselves up. 

“I love you,” Jack says, when he can think straight again. 

“I love you, too,” Ponce says, his lips brushing Jack’s temple.

* * *

A week later, when Jack complains about having international relations homework, Ponce _swears_ Jack’s batting his eyes at him.


End file.
